Mr. Darcy had called at Reddclift Hall early on in the acquaintance, but Elizabeth and Georgiana had been no farther than the cottage to visit the ladies. So it was of particular interest to them when a dinner invitation arrived from Mr. Sanditon. The opportunity to finally see his home and meet his young daughters presented a prospect of no small appeal. In addition, considering that the gentleman lived a reclusive life, they were not insensible of the compliment represented by such a rare invitation.
Mr. Sanditon secured his sister-in-law’s services as hostess for the evening and, naturally, Charlotte Collins was included in the party as well. Kitty Bennet had recently removed to Heatheridge, so only three came from Pemberley. Their drive took them through the village of Kympton, across the river that meandered through the fertile valley, and up the gradual slope that lay beyond. Farms and cottages of various sizes and descriptions dotted the countryside along the route. Reddclift Hall, near the crest of the far hill, overlooked this pleasant pastoral scene. The house stood out markedly from its surroundings, especially with the afternoon light glinting off the glazing and painting the pale stone of the structure a honey-gold. Even at a distance, it was easily distinguishable.
When the Darcys arrived, Mr. Sanditon welcomed them and offered his guests a look about the place before dinner. As their host guided the tour, he talked about the history of the house and his strong attachment to it. Reddclift had been in the family for three generations, he informed them, having been built by his grandfather. The house was only moderately sized but appointed with style and taste, the credit for which Mr. Sanditon gave entirely to his late wife.
They stopped in the nursery to visit Mr. Sanditon’s daughters, who were introduced as Abigail and Amelia. Elizabeth found them enchanting, her own situation making all small children of special interest to her at that time. Georgiana was drawn to the girls at once. She immediately knelt down to talk to them. Hesitant at first, they were soon coaxed forward by Georgiana’s reassuring voice and outstretched hand.
After several minutes, the adults quit the nursery and moved on.
“Thank you for your kind attentions to my daughters, Miss Darcy,” said Mr. Sanditon.
“Not at all, sir. I am grateful for the pleasure of seeing them. They are dear little creatures.”
“Of course I would never disagree with you about that. I am glad you like them. The girls appear to have taken a fancy to you as well. They are often shy of strangers, but you won them over easily enough. You must have a natural talent with children.”
“Thank you. But really, Mr. Sanditon, you are too excessive in your praise. I am very fond of children, yet I cannot claim any special capabilities.”
“I am sure you are too modest, Miss Darcy.”
Over dinner, cordial conversation flowed freely amongst the six friends, covering a wide range of topics. At one point, Charlotte Collins mentioned her former home in Hunsford, which prompted a question from Mr. Darcy.
“Do you keep up a correspondence with my aunt at Rosings Park, Mrs. Collins?”
“Why, yes, I do. I hope that does not offend you, sir. After her generosity to Mr. Collins and myself, I will be forever in Lady Catherine’s debt.”
“I take no offense, certainly. I was simply interested to know how she is getting on.”
“I fear I have very little to offer you. Her letters are filled with more advice than information, which may not surprise you. As far as I am able to determine, she is much the same as she ever was. She may, however, be suffering from a lack of company, for I gather, from her manner of speaking about him, that she is not so very well pleased with the new rector. She complains that he and his wife do not call to pay their respects as often as she deems fitting.”
“Yes, that sounds very like her indeed,” said Darcy wryly.
“If I may be so bold, I believe she also feels the loss of your society, Mr. Darcy,” Charlotte ventured.
“What makes you say so?”
“She has inquired after you on more than one occasion.”
“That does not signify. She may just as likely be wishing me ill as wanting me back at Rosings,” he reasoned.
“I do not think so. I am quite familiar with her moods, and if I read her correctly, there is more regret than rancor in her tone.”
After dinner, while they awaited the men to rejoin them, the four ladies had time for private conversation, the main topic of which was Elizabeth’s recent announcement. Charlotte and Ruth were quick to offer their best wishes, sentiments which Elizabeth received with some discomfort. When she considered how different were the circumstances of the other two – not only bereft of their husbands but also left without children by which to remember them – she could not help being a little embarrassed by her own good fortune.
When the gentlemen reappeared, Ruth proposed a game of Whist. Mr. Sanditon supported the idea, then insisted on sitting out of the game in favor of his guests. Miss Darcy did not care to play and likewise excused herself, leaving the remaining four to carry on whilst she joined Mr. Sanditon in conversation by the hearth. They both politely refused repeated offers to trade places and have their turn at the game. So everyone continued where they were until it was time to call for the carriages and take leave of Reddclift.
On the drive back to Pemberley, thoughts and discourse about the pleasant party dominated. Georgiana was particularly animated in expressing her satisfaction with all aspects of the evening; everything and everyone had been to her liking. Elizabeth took it as a very encouraging sign.
Chapter 13
Correspondence
As he promised his wife, Mr. Darcy did seriously contemplate pursuing a reconciliation with his contentious aunt. For a long time, a battle raged within him, his righteous indignation at war with his conscience. The counsel of one told him Lady Catherine deserved no pity, while the other advised that his Christian duty was to forgive. Elizabeth did not interfere with his deliberations, nor did she attempt to influence him. She allowed that, since Lady Catherine was his aunt, it must be his decision.
Finally, Darcy announced, “I have been considering your proposition, Elizabeth. I am now of the opinion that reconciliation – under the right circumstances – would be desirable. I am willing to make the first move, but I am determined that Lady Catherine must meet us halfway. If she refuses to take any responsibility for her behavior, then nothing is to be gained. It would be pointless to readmit such a person into our lives and ultimately deleterious to impose her upon our offspring.”
“I entirely agree with you, Darcy. How do you suggest we begin?”
“I think a very carefully worded letter could be issued in the hope that it would serve to reopen the channels of communication. This engagement between Anne and Fitzwilliam gives me an excuse for writing, in order to extend my congratulations. If, as Mrs. Collins believes, my aunt is more favorably disposed toward me now, she will have her opportunity to respond in kind.”
“Have you written the letter yet?”
“No, but I have begun composing it in my mind. It will require some delicacy in order to get the wording and spirit just right, I think.”
A few days later, when he was at last satisfied with his work, Darcy showed his letter to Elizabeth.
Lady Catherine de Bourgh,
Rosings Park, Kent
Madam,
Allow me to offer my congratulations on the engagement of your daughter Anne to Colonel Fitzwilliam. My wife and I have the highest opinion of them both and wish them all possible happiness in their marriage.
Much as you are looking forward to this addition to your family circle, Mrs. Darcy and I find that we are expecting an addition to ours by a different means. This blessing causes me to reflect on the importance of maintaining (and restoring, where necessary) peace and unity within my extended family. I regret the disagreement that has broken that bond in our case. Although I will make no apologies for a marriage in which I have been supremely happy, I am sorry that the accomplish
ment of it occasioned you pain. My hope is that the success of the match now made for your daughter will produce a degree of felicity eclipsing any pleasure lost by a disappointed former plan.
Though I am amenable to conciliation, what passed between us – especially uncharitable words spoken and written against my wife – cannot be easily forgotten. However, if after the passage of time you have experienced an alteration in your position to the extent that you now find yourself able to make some reparation, I am willing to hear whatever you have to say on the subject. The matter is entirely in your own hands, Madam. I remain, respectfully,
Your nephew,
Fitzwilliam Darcy
“What do you think, Elizabeth? Is it too harsh or too yielding? Would you wish to add or subtract anything?” he asked.
“No, I believe it is a job well done. A fine letter … very balanced, being neither overly judgmental nor falsely penitent. You write only the truth. And since you are not inclined to exaggeration, I cannot even suspect the part about your ‘supreme happiness,’” Elizabeth said with a glint in her eye. “You have made your position plain. It will now be up to Lady Catherine to accept or reject your offer. Your conscience can be clear either way.”
“Good. Well, if you are satisfied, we shall send the olive branch on its way. Let us hope that is finds a favorable reception at the end of its journey.”
“Thank you, my dear. I appreciate what a distasteful business this has been for you. I hope your efforts will be rewarded and you will not be sorry I suggested the idea.”
“We shall just have to wait and see about that.”
~*~
Elizabeth decided to visit the Bingleys and Kitty briefly before Easter. Jane was confined to home now and due to deliver in another few weeks, so it was left to her sister to do the traveling if they were to see each other. Mr. Darcy had pressing estate business and was obliged to forego the pleasure of attending his wife to Heatheridge. Instead, Georgiana volunteered to accompany her.
It had been well over a month since Elizabeth had last seen Jane at the dinner party at Pemberley. Although they had exchanged letters in the interim, Elizabeth longed to be with her again, especially at this time when they shared the additional bond of impending motherhood. The visit did not disappoint in any respect, comprising many hours of close conversation amongst the four young women. Mr. Bingley’s society was happily admitted as well, but he was not so insensible as to think it was always wanted.
Following their three-day absence, Mr. Darcy welcomed his wife and sister back to Pemberley. “How did you find our friends at Heatheridge?” he asked Elizabeth after greeting them both.
“As well as one might expect in their situation. Jane is already quite uncomfortable; I cannot imagine how she can possibly persevere until May. She truly is enormous, Darcy.”
“Lizzy! I hope you did not say such a thing to her.”
“No, of course not. But I did say that I should not be surprised if her accouchement came sooner than expected. At this point, she would be happy for it, I am sure.”
“And how is our Mr. Bingley holding up under the strain, Georgiana?”
“He is perhaps a little overwrought, but mostly proud and happy, I should think … and so attentive to Jane, too! It really is quite sweet. He insists on waiting upon her himself and constantly asks after her comfort.”
“I see that he has set the mark very high for me,” said Darcy.
“You are correct,” Elizabeth agreed. “I want you to know that I took careful notice of Mr. Bingley’s thoughtfulness. So, husband, do not be uneasy. If you are at a loss for how to take care of me in the months to come, I can instruct you.”
“Thank you, Lizzy,” he said. “That is a very great comfort indeed. Yet I assure you, I have a few ideas of my own about how best to tend to my wife.”
His manner of delivering this pleasantry betrayed no trace of his double meaning. And, with his innocent sister present, Elizabeth chose to be discrete as well, giving Darcy a chastening look but otherwise letting his private joke pass without comment. For her part, Georgiana did not trouble herself about the remark; she was by now accustomed to the fact that she did not always fully comprehend what passed between her brother and his wife.
In a change of subject, Darcy continued, “By the way, I had an unexpected visitor while you were gone to Heatheridge. Fitzwilliam stopped here briefly yesterday morning.”
“Really? I am sorry to have missed him,” said Elizabeth, with a furtive glance at Georgiana to see how she bore the mention of the colonel’s name.
“Yes. He was on his way back to Kent and stopped to offer his congratulations to us. It is unfortunate that you were away, for we shan’t see him again until we get to town. He tells me he will be needed at Rosings from now until the wedding, which is set for the second week of June.”
Hoping to redirect the conversation into safer territory, Elizabeth asked, “Now you mention it, when do you think we shall be leaving for London? Have you fixed on a date yet?”
“I know you would not consider leaving until Jane is safely delivered,” he began. “Barring any unforeseen complications, though, we should be on our way a week or two following, and stay at least until after the wedding. Would that suit you, Georgiana?”
“What? Oh, just as you like, brother. It matters very little to me,” she answered absently.
“This is your first full season. I thought you would be more enthusiastic. All your friends will be in town as well,” he said.
“Yes, I know,” Georgiana agreed.
“And I am sure the Heywoods are eager to see you again,” said Elizabeth. “What do you hear from Andrea?”
“Just as you say, she is eager for me to come to London. Still, I think she writes more for her brother’s sake than for her own. Her letters are full of references to Henry. She raves about his accomplishments and goes on and on describing his activities, as if she thinks I am violently in love with him, or she wishes me to be so.”
Elizabeth laughed. “You cannot fault her for that, Georgiana. After all, I recall that you did a very effective job of promoting the admirable qualities of your own excellent brother when we first met.”
“I trust you found all my assertions accurate and are not sorry for having listened to them.” She received Elizabeth’s nodding assent. “As for Henry Heywood, I am unconvinced that he fully deserves all the homage his sister pays him.”
“Then perhaps this trip to town will persuade you,” suggested Elizabeth. “There is nothing like seeing a man at home – in his normal surroundings and about his business – to give one a clear picture of his true character and worth. Outside of that environment, it is difficult to judge him rightly.”
Elizabeth said this with her own experience in mind, recalling how different Mr. Darcy seemed when she encountered him at Pemberley for the first time. By then, some of her previous misconceptions about him had been banished, and he had deliberately amended his manners. Yet that could not explain the transformation entirely. Even now, she could see the change in him at home compared to away. Away from Pemberley, her husband was never totally at ease, and his rigid constraint too often apt to be interpreted as false pride by those who did not know him well. Contrariwise, at home, there was none of that awkwardness; he was cordial to guests and visitors, liberal with his servants and tenants, and comfortable within himself.
~*~
For Elizabeth, this was a season of waiting – waiting for Jane’s imminent delivery, waiting for her own time to come, waiting for the trip to London and Fitzwilliam’s wedding, and waiting for a reply from Lady Catherine. The last came first, as it happened. Although the subject had hardly been touched upon in the fortnight since Darcy’s letter went out, it was never far from Elizabeth’s mind. Each time the post arrived, she silently wondered if there would be any word from Lady Catherine. Finally, they had her letter in hand. She and Darcy read it together.
Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy,
Pemberley, De
rbyshire
My Nephew,
I confess that I was very much surprised, but not displeased, at receiving a letter from you, sir. Although I am not entirely satisfied with your tone in parts, I can appreciate the exertion and compromise of pride required of you in writing it.
I thank you for your compliments concerning Anne’s upcoming marriage, for which I too have every expectation of success. I believe Colonel Fitzwilliam will treat my daughter with the respect she deserves. Anne is a treasure, and I think he fully comprehends the honor she does him by consenting to be his wife. I trust that he will prove worthy of this privilege, a privilege that another gentleman chose to cast aside to his discredit.
As for this estrangement between us, I must admit that it is a matter of some regret for me as well. I am sure no one respects the value of family connections more than I do myself. Although I have not yet learnt to repent of the conviction that you acted wrongly in marrying beneath you and against the wishes of all your relations, I concede that my own behavior subsequently was not above reproach.
Some of the frank sentiments I expressed at the time would, perhaps, have been better left unsaid. The words proceeded from a sense of indignation based not simply on an offense to myself, but also for what I perceived to be an injury to my daughter. You will soon understand that in defense of one’s child, of any age, one is apt to do things one otherwise would not. This must be my excuse.
In future, should you call at Rosings, I shall receive you. You may bring your wife as well, if you wish. As I recall, I once found her rather entertaining.
Lady Catherine de Bourgh
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